The Suit
by chlday
Summary: Picks up after Chapter 57 of Ignite Me.


Warner keeps staring at me.

I've been trying not to stare back, but I'm having a hard time.

I'm still wearing my new suit, and Warner is back in his workout clothes: baggy blue sweatpants, a tight-fitting white T-shirt, sneakers. He's on one of the mechanical bikes, leaning forward on the seat as he pumps his legs. And he's going to work his shoulders and back next, because it's Wednesday.

Who knew Wednesday would become one of my favorite days of the week?

"Hellooooo, Juliette, you in there?"

I snap my gaze away from Warner, but not before I see one corner of his mouth lift up in a smirk.

"Yeah, hi, good morning." Kenji is slightly annoyed with me. "Look J, I know you're into the whole Warner-in-sweatpants thing, but could you focus please? This final training session could literally and actually determine the fate of the world. Like, no pressure or anything, but those are the stakes we're playing with right now."

I blush. "Sorry."

"Sure you are," he mutters, glaring and pouting. "Color stealer."

I cross my arms. Now it's my turn to be annoyed. "Will you please let that go?! I didn't ask for my suit to be black—"

"So? I still have a right to be mad."

"How?!"

"Because I'm the sexy one in the killer black suit! That's my thing, J! You're supposed to be like magenta or purple or whatever. And why do you get that crazy pattern, who gave you the right?"

"Uh, Winston and Alia gave me the right. They're the ones who made it, go yell at them."

"Shit, maybe I will."

"Yeah. Go."

Kenji drags one hand down his face. "Black suit. They just haaaad to make you a black suit."

"Kenji."

"Now people will think we're like – brother and sister, or someshit."

"We look nothing alike."

"Good point," Kenji mutters. "Which means they'll assume we're lovers. Shit."

"Or they'll just see the suits and know we're on the same side? Why does it have to be anything more complicated than that?"

"You know what, J – I think I need a moment."

I watch Kenji mope away, muttering profanities under his breath, and I shake my head.

Then I hear a chuckle behind me. "He's always had a flair for the dramatic." I turn and glance up at Warner. He's smiling. "I've always known that, but I never realized just how entertaining he can be."

I'm suddenly nervous. "Yeah. Well. That's – Kenji."

Warner looks at me. His eyes are glittering as his fingertips brush my sleeve. My pulse picks up a notch.

"So you like the new suit?" I ask, spinning in a slow circle for him. "Winston and Alia are geniuses."

"I couldn't agree more, love." He takes a step closer. Dips his head until his cheek brushes my temple. "But I'm far more interested in what you have underneath the suit."

I swallow. I wish I knew what to say to that.

His hands land on my waist. His mouth is by my ear. "What do you say we go – freshen up upstairs?"

Freshen up. Upstairs.

"Aren't you going to work on your – y-your back? And your shoulders?"

He pulls away. Grins wickedly. "I think," he says, "I'd rather work on your back and shoulders today."

And before I even register what he means, before I say anything, his fingers are laced through mine, and he's pulling me towards the elevator.

But then I get it. When we reach the elevator, I get it.

And I'm trembling with anticipation.

As the doors open and we step inside, my hands tingle with an irrepressible urge to touch him.

The doors inch shut and I turn to face him, but he pulls me forward, toward the elevator wall. He raises our joined hands, and curls his fingers around mine, forcing my hand to close into a fist as he positions it against the wall.

My back is facing him.

He places his free hand at the top of my spine, and trails his fingers down along the seam of the zipper. My lungs suddenly forget how to expand.

Then his hand slopes down at an angle, fingertips whispering against the fabric, before wrapping around my hipbone. He pulls my hips closer, while keeping the rest of me in place, anchored by my hand on the wall. My back arches.

I feel him shiver.

The elevator doors open and he unzips the suit in one clean movement. He's peeling the fabric away from my shoulders, forcing it down my arms, then his hands are at my waist and he yanks all the way down.

My suit is bunched around my knees, sitting atop my boots.

Warner is on the ground, pulling my left boot off of my foot, and now the right. He takes my hands as I step out of the suit, kicking it to the corner of the elevator. His eyes are bright.

"About three seconds," he says. "I like that removal time."

I giggle and his arms wrap around my waist. He hoists me up, clutching me against his chest as he barrels out of the elevator and into his office, his bedroom. We practically crash onto the bed.

I prop myself up on my elbows. I dig my heels against the mattress, and start crawling backwards towards the top of the bed. Warner follows me. He straddles my hips and places his hands at my waist. They slide around to my back and work their way up.

He unhooks my bra. Tosses it aside.

And his hands quickly return, positioning themselves under my shoulder blades and he's scooping me up, pressing me against his chest as he kisses my throat.

I whimper.

His hands stretch wide, palms flat against the top of my back, fingers curving over my shoulders.

I grab the waist of his sweatpants and pull them down.

He pulls away, fixing me with a heavy green stare for a fraction of a second before his hands disappear from my back and reappear at the hem of his shirt. The shirt he is now lifting over his head. The shirt that is now somewhere else, but I don't know where else, because I can't look away.

I don't want to look away.

He's on top of me.

He's kissing me and my eyelids flutter shut, because even though I want to see him so badly, I don't think I'm in control of my body anymore. My hands are running up and down his back. My thighs are inching apart. My hips are arching up and off the bed, toward him. And all these things, they're happening on their own, I have no say in any of this.

And then he flips me.

And I'm lying on my stomach and I'm disoriented.

And his hands.

His hands.

They're at my shoulders again, and he's kneading my muscles. He's pressing into them, his thumbs are digging in deep, and the pressure is so heavy, but the bliss is so incredible, so unbelievable. This sensation is entirely new and I had no idea my muscles were so tense, I didn't know how badly they needed this, but oh, they do.

I'm gasping because I can't help it.

He's moving down, kneading the muscles in my back, and I'm gritting my teeth because even though this is amazing, it also kind of hurts. A deep, ragged-sounding moan stirs within me.

My eyes squeeze shut. Open.

He's not massaging me anymore.

My underwear is looped around my ankle.

"Juliette," he whispers.

He's lowering himself over me, his chest is pressing against my back. He sets his right knee down between my thighs and sweeps it upward, moving my leg along with it.

And now I'm really struggling for control. I'm biting back the thing that's rising in my throat, and I don't know what it is, it could be a moan or a scream or something else, I don't know, but the effort it takes to keep it down is making me gasp. It's making the muscles in my arm tense and my hands squeeze into fists, and I'm clutching desperately at the sheets.

His cheek is pressed against mine. I can feel one of his teeth against the corner of my mouth. He's breathing me in. He's swallowing my gasps.

I feel him smile.

And I know his dimples must be showing, but I can't look, I can't open my eyes.

His voice is rough as he says, "If you need to scream, love, you go ahead and scream."

"I c-ca—"

He grabs my chin and turns my face towards his. Waits until I open my eyes.

He whispers, "No one will hear it except for me." His fingers squeeze around my chin a little harder. "And I want to hear it. I want to see you completely undone, completely wild. Don't hold anything back, don't hide from me, Juliette—"

"Aaron—"

"Please," he says. His eyes are so intensely green. "I'm begging you."

It takes me a moment. I'm scared, but I let go. I let everything rising in my throat bubble to the surface, and I watch him as his eyelids flutter shut. He lolls his head to the side and he sucks in a deep breath, and we lose ourselves.

We lose ourselves in each other.


End file.
